


Learning to Fly

by Inkyrius



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Wings, Character Study, Gen, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2020-10-28 12:44:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20778791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inkyrius/pseuds/Inkyrius
Summary: Long before there's such a thing as the Chime, its members have something in common.





	Learning to Fly

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Shadaras](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadaras/gifts).

Even before she’d become Aria, she’d known exactly who she wanted Aria to be. She’d prepared her arguments carefully: it was a gimmick no other idol had used. It evoked the fantastic yet wholesome image Joypark was built on. It was eye-catching and looked great on a poster.

She didn’t know how much it had mattered. Maybe she’d convinced Earthhome, or maybe they’d decided it was easier to give in to her whims than to replace her so late in the process. What did matter was that the first time she opened her eyes as Aria Joie, she was greeted by a pair of fluffy blue-and-pink wings wrapped around her torso.

She let out an excited squeak. She went to extend a wing to get a better look at it, but, unaccustomed to the new muscles, she only succeeded in smacking herself in the face. She couldn’t help but laugh, both at the sensation of feathers brushing against her cheek and from the sheer joy of it all.

She pushed herself upright. It took her a moment to find her balance with the unfamiliar weight at her back. The wings were lighter than she’d expected, light enough to let her fly, but they felt strong and steady.

She was struck by the fact that she was now able to fly. She pressed her hands to her mouth to keep from squealing again.

It was then that an Earthhome representative walked in. “Aria,” he said, his smile showing too many teeth. “You look great. How are you feeling?”

“Amazing,” Aria said. She flexed a muscle experimentally, watching her wing fold closer to her body.

“Great,” he said again. “Our ship is right outside, so as soon as you’re ready, we can head back to Joypark.”

“Already?”

“We’ve already hired a physical therapist for you, so there’s no point in wasting time here.” He spread his hands. “I mean, you want to be ready to perform as soon as possible, right?”

“Yeah.” Aria swung her legs of the bed and jumped down. She stumbled as she hit the ground, but caught herself easily. “Let me just get changed.”

She’d thought she was prepared for this part. She’d bought a shirt designed for people with wings, and been so excited every time she glanced at it in her closet. She wasn’t expecting the struggle of putting it on. She kept accidentally extending her wings in the wrong direction, or putting limbs through the wrong holes.

The novelty had begun to wear off by the time she was done. It was hard to feel glamorous with the lingering feeling of fabric pressed against your face.

Then she saw herself in the mirror. She looked like an idol, bright eyes and cute clothes and a gorgeous pair of wings. She looked like everything she’d dreamed of being.

She let herself stare for another minute before heading out to join the Earthhome rep. As happy as she was about it, the physical transformation was the easy part. It was time for the real work to begin.

* * *

Mako had never understood why the September Institute bothered giving all its students wings. Sure, house unity was great, but there had to be an easier way to establish a group identity than gene splicing.

He wasn’t complaining about it, though. He had at first, when he was younger and it felt like just another thing he was being made to do “for his own good.” Then he flew for the first time. It was all the freedom of being in the Mesh, but entirely his own, no instructors shaping his surroundings to keep him focused and in line.

It also didn’t hurt that Rosemoon had the coolest wings. They were shaped like bats’ wings, with devices implanted that let you change their pattern at will. Mako generally kept his a sharkskin grey to match his mesh avatar.

Tonight, though, he was on a mission, and his wings were mottled back so they wouldn’t give him away. He looked out his window, saw no security guards, and jumped down, gliding to the ground with practiced ease.

The air was warm that night. Summer hadn’t quite arrived, but it was close. It would have been easy for Mako to catch an updraft and soar into the city. Security would have caught him immediately, of course. It was the first thing new students tried once they’d gotten used to their wings.

Instead, he made his way on foot to a nondescript segment of the wall around campus. When he was sure no one else was around, he started whistling to himself like the generic delinquent from every educational film he’d been forced to sit through. Sometimes it was worth living down to the stereotypes.

It took a bit of searching before he found what he was looking for. The generic graffiti projected onto it by his campus skin appeared to be layered over a set of concentric circles, imaginary traces of a former student.

He switched his vision over to the beach skin. The ground at his feet vanished under sand. The buildings took on a sun-bleached appearance, and all the evergreens became palm trees. The brick wall was replaced with a rundown wooden fence everywhere except for right in front of him, where it flickered between the two. Mako barely had to nudge it to get it to wink out of existence altogether, taking its sensors and alarms with it.

He stepped through the gap and spread his wings. He was only going into the city, but there was no way he’d waste a beautiful night like this.

* * *

Automated Dynamics units were designed to be mass-produced and interchangeable. They were outfitted with the most generic parts necessary to perform their functions, with the expectation that they’d last only a few years before becoming obsolete. Giving them anything more would have been a waste. Besides, for a robot built to get in and out of cars quickly, wings would only have gotten in the way.

AuDy didn’t park cars anymore, so theoretically wings were an option for them. Cene had certainly offered. Cene would have given AuDy a new body altogether if that’s what AuDy had wanted, one with all the bells and whistles they could think of. Cene had grown more animated as they’d described all the features they could offer.

AuDy did not want a new body altogether. Some upgrades were convenient, but they couldn’t afford to go further into Cene’s debt for frivolities like wings. They had bigger plans.

They wouldn’t have admitted to it, but they were also in the process of adjusting to the sensation of only having one body. There was no sense in disorienting themselves further.

They focused their attention on learning to fly instead. It seemed a reasonable compromise, the motions familiar enough to be comfortable but new enough to be exciting. 

This was doubly true when they received the Kingdom Come from Orth. It was large and clunky, nothing like the sleek cars they’d been accustomed to. It clearly wasn’t designed for planetary travel. The difficulty of finding someplace to park it meant that AuDy frequently had to walk across entire domes after landing.

But it was their ship, and the sensation of it responding to their hands on the controls brought them no small amount of satisfaction. Had they been more prone to sentiment, they might have realized that they’d ended up with wings after all.

* * *

When Cassander enlisted, they were outfitted with a standard suite of brain implants, good for targeting and tracking vitals both. They were also given a pair of wings.

From a tactical standpoint, they couldn’t object. It would have been devastating for morale for them to become a casualty of war. The wings gave them an ace up their sleeve, a way to secure their own safety at the cost of their comrades. The shiny metal cut a striking figure when photographed, too.

None of this meant that Cassander was pleased about it. Their implants took care of adjusting their center of balance, but did nothing for the shock of catching wings out of the corner of their eye.

But it was war, and they weren’t expecting to be comfortable. They went through their flight lessons with the same minor grumbling that got them through learning to pilot a mech as a child. They learned how to take off quickly and identify sheltered spots from above. They got good at calling the Megalophile to meet them in midair. They ran the drills they were ordered to and tried not to think about their wings the rest of the time.

It wasn’t until their ship landed on Apotica that Cassander fully accepted them. The stop was routine, a chance to resupply before engaging, and it was a good excuse to show off the noble journey of the ship bearing the imperial scion. 

Cassander tried not to wonder what it said about the state of the war, that their being where they were scheduled to be was such a big deal. They just smiled for the cameras and delivered their prepackaged statements.

Their public appearance made, they found they couldn’t face the idea of going back to the ship just yet. They’d been in the same halls for weeks, with weeks more to go before they encountered the enemy. Staying out would have meant staying exposed to the press, though, a possibility they found equally unappealing.

The thought occurred to them that they had another option. They were unlikely to be followed into the air unless one of the tabloids had an aircraft stationed right by the hotel. Cassander didn’t know how comfortable they’d be once they got in the air, but the speedy takeoffs they’d been practicing turned out to be as good for escaping doubts as they were for avoiding enemies.

It was the first time they’d flown without a specific task in mind. They hovered above the buildings, suddenly hesitant. The wind was stronger than they’d expected, but even so, it was quiet. They took a deep breath. The air was crisp and clean.

They lost track of time as they hung there, just breathing. They only came down when they were forced to. Their wings were built for agility, not endurance.

It took them an hour to find their way back to their ship once they landed. They didn’t mind. No one had come to bother them yet, and they felt more comfortable in their skin than they had in months. It seemed the benefits to having wings weren’t strictly tactical after all.


End file.
